The Greatest Showman #1240 - Behind the Glitz

As Renly entered the Sunset Tower Hotel, he couldn't help but nod slightly, impressed by Graydon Carter's wisdom.

Graydon had astutely understood the psychology of celebrities, using every detail to highlight the differences in social class and making sure those differences were visible to all: First, this is a top-tier event, not everyone can get in; second, even if you have an invitation, there's still a sense of hierarchical treatment.

What the guests truly crave is this differential treatment, as it fuels their drive to climb higher, to earn more privileges, better treatment, and even greater distinctions—until they stand at the peak, where everything below them looks small and the cold of the high places feels ever so real.

Oscar night isn't just a chance to showcase such discrimination; it's also the perfect platform for aspiring celebrities to climb the ladder. It's a night brimming with endless opportunities and connections, where people relentlessly chase the dream of achieving a dazzling transformation.

Everyone wants to be seen here; everyone wants to prove their worth. This cycle has gone on year after year, making Oscar night the crown jewel of the industry.

Vanity Fair, true to its name, is a whirlwind of faces—some stay, some leave, some are cast aside, and some rise to prominence. Over the last two decades, Hollywood has experienced immense change, but the Oscar night party at Vanity Fair has remained a constant fixture, a symbol that endures.

Graydon Carter—he's truly something remarkable.

Upon entering the Sunset Tower Hotel, Renly and his entourage were halted again before officially entering the garden party. A woman in a suit, her long dark brown hair tied in a ponytail, greeted them with a smile that, though pleasant, carried an undeniable firmness. "Mr. Renly-Hall, welcome to Oscar night, but I still need you to confirm the number of people in your entourage."

Renly turned his head toward the security guards at the door. The bright lights of the event were blinding, yet the woman remained calm and unwavering in her request.

Curious, Renly asked, "What's the most tedious part of this process?"

The woman paused, catching the tone of his inquiry, and quickly responded with a smile, "We need to verify the invitation letter again, check the number and names of the guests, and confirm the time of arrival."

In short, it was just a repeat of the process they had gone through at the door, but for Renly, it was only about confirming the number of people in his party. The subtle but glaring discrimination was clear.

"The vanity of fame and fortune! Who is intoxicated? Who is consumed by desire? Or perhaps, to have a name, to be content?"

This is a line from the novel Vanity Fair. Before the 19th century, the upper class was not accessible to everyone. Once you gained access, you entered a completely different world. Without an invitation, there was no way in, even though life was happening on the other side.

That's Hollywood now—its lights, its flattery, its extravagant clothes, fragrances, and neon. People rush toward it, some get lost in it, while others dream of being part of it, as if it's a gathering place for dreams.

Standing there, Renly couldn't help but feel the absurdity of it all. He knew that Graydon's invitation to tonight's Oscar night wasn't just a courtesy—it was a recognition of his status as a hereditary aristocrat, which in turn made him Hollywood's link to British high society.

Yet, Renly also knew that Vanity Fair was coveting the connections behind him, hoping he would bridge the gap between these two worlds. But they were bound to be disappointed because Renly wasn't the ideal candidate for that. Even Eaton Dormer or Andre Hamilton would be better options. If Graydon ever learned that, would he be disappointed?

A smile tugged at Renly's lips, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he asked, "When you say 'time of arrival,' you mean there's a set time for guests to enter? That's a new policy, isn't it?"

The woman paused for a second, then replied with a smile, "Yes, some guests must arrive early to set the tone, while others must arrive later to avoid disrupting the atmosphere."

Her answer seemed satisfactory, but Renly caught a deeper layer of meaning.

It made sense that smaller names would enter early, arriving ahead of time to energize the venue before the bigger stars made their entrance. Conversely, late arrivals were likely to be reporters, editors, or behind-the-scenes staff, avoiding any awkward encounters that could occur after the Oscars themselves, when tensions might run high. Such "private time" was better left untouched.

Renly could see even more possibilities hidden beneath the surface, but it wasn't necessary to explore them further. He understood the whole system. For instance, the earlier reporters arrived, the bigger the stories they could break later, and how secrets could be exchanged for future opportunities. The same principle applied to everyone else at the event.

Each detail, every step, and every interaction reinforced the hierarchy that pervaded Vanity Fair, pushing its privileged image to new heights. No wonder it had become the dream destination for so many in Hollywood.

Renly took the invitation letter from Andy's hand. He hadn't paid much attention to it before, but now he noticed it was a black invitation—simple yet elegant, embodying understated luxury. And yet, this unassuming invitation exuded an air of mystery and exclusivity.

"Mr. Hall?" the staff member called, noticing Renly had become momentarily distracted.

Renly snapped back to reality and chuckled softly.

The woman had done her job well, but small details revealed her shortcomings: At a party where class distinctions were the focus, names and titles mattered immensely. A misstep here would indicate a lack of understanding of the high-society world.

If Arthur were running the party, his staff would have memorized every guest's name and preferences, providing service with precision and never allowing even the slightest mistake. Arthur's teams were strict, but that was what made him successful. In the same industry, Arthur's team was paid three times as much as others. They expected excellence, and they delivered it.

But here, despite Graydon's brilliance, there was still a gap in understanding. They hadn't truly grasped the dignity and pride of the aristocratic class.

Renly smiled as he responded, "There are three people in the entourage." He stepped aside to gesture to Andy, Roy, and Nathan, guiding them into the garden corridor where the crowd buzzed in anticipation.

Renly noticed Andy's relaxed expression and teased, "Next time, you might want to bring your own invitation. It'll make things much easier."

As a top-tier agent, Andy naturally had his own invitation, but tonight he had left it at home, accompanying Renly instead.

"No, no. Trust me, it's a lot easier with your invitation," Andy replied with a knowing look.

There were only nine black invitations each year, a rare and coveted status symbol. Those invitations were earned the previous year and may not be granted again. No one could buy them on the black market; their value wasn't just in their rarity, but in the access they provided to the highest circles of Hollywood.

After a pause, Andy added with a chuckle, "Now, this is your battlefield. I'm sure you'll be very busy tonight, so we won't disturb you. We have our own area too, so don't worry. Enjoy yourself."

Before he could finish speaking, someone else approached.